


Night Out

by RowboatCop



Series: Cliche Interruptus (or 5 Times the Avengers Interrupt Skye and Coulson During a Sex Cliche, and One Time They Don't) [5]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, Flirting, Hotel Sex, Poor Coulson and Skye, Silly, Tony Stark is an ass, UST, pervy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-06
Updated: 2014-09-06
Packaged: 2018-02-16 08:22:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2262654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RowboatCop/pseuds/RowboatCop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Coulson and Skye are enjoying a nice night out together, until Tony Stark busts in on them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Night Out

They’re sitting across from each other at the Zagat rated restaurant in the lobby of their boutique hotel (it’s the best meal he’s had in over a year), and Coulson isn’t actually sure what he’s had to eat.

Surprisingly, that doesn’t bother him.

It’s the quality of the company, he knows, and also the current placement of that company’s foot in his lap. Skye is shockingly dextrous with her toes, which she is currently demonstrating as she licks chocolate mousse off of a spoon. (And he’s pretty sure she’s not even _trying_ with the chocolate. She’s more self-conscious, more charmingly self-deprecating, when she’s trying to be sexy, and right now she’s just _really_ enjoying her dessert.)

Just watching her eat would probably be enough to drive him crazy, and that added to the way her foot has been teasing him mercilessly has him on the brink of insanity.

“Skye.” He draws her attention before asking, “Do you want to go upstairs?”

He really wants to go upstairs.

“Mmm,” she sighs as she slides her spoon out of her mouth, and maybe she _is_ trying to be sexy with it. “Almost done.”

Coulson swallows, and she slides her toes up and down the length of him, wiggles her foot more comfortably between his legs.

“I’ll get you more. You can eat it upstairs.”

He’s aware that he sounds a little desperate. He _is_ a little desperate. A lot desperate. It feels like he’s been trying to have sex with her forever, and not like before they first kissed when it just consumed his thoughts. They have been _actively_ trying to have sex for weeks, now, and neither one of them has actually gotten off.

_Frustrating_ is not a strong enough word.

Skye grins at him, having way too much fun with his flustered response. He both hates and loves that she knocks him so much off balance.

He watches as she scoops up the last of her mousse, and this time when her tongue darts out to lick it, she does so with a more awkward flick of her tongue. She rolls her eyes at herself, and Coulson grins at her.

“I thought I had this down,” she complains, as though she’s not an extremely accomplished flirt.

“It’s working for me,” he promises.

“No offense, Phil, but you’re an easy mark.” She raises an eyebrow at him, and he has to bite back a stupid grin. It’s not so much the words as it is her use of his name — she’s getting more comfortable with it, using it more, but every time she says it, it sounds...dirty. Dirty in the best way. Slightly forbidden. It’s a reminder that this thing between them is still new, or at least acting on it is, but it' also a promise that one day it won’t be.

Skye laughs and manages to squeeze her toes around the length of his cock.

“See? Easy mark.”

Coulson just smiles at her, not denying it. When it comes to her, he’s fine with being an easy mark.

Skye finishes her chocolate mousse in one more large, unsexy bite, but she _enjoys_ the bite. Her quiet moan and the way her eyes roll back slightly are sexier than any show she could put on. Just the thought of making her make that face — make that noise — has him throbbing against her foot.

“I think this is the best meal I’ve ever had,” she tells him, which pulls Coulson just slightly out of his brain-fogging lust.

“I wish I could give this to you all the time.”

“I wouldn’t want it all the time. It’s a nice change of pace, but it’s not really...me.”

His eyes drift from her face down to her bare shoulders, on display in the borrowed strapless dress. It _isn’t_ her, she’s right, but she looks beautiful anyways.

“I wish I was more your type,” she blurts out, looks annoyed with herself for having said it. It’s sort of shocking because out of the two of them, it’s got to be _him_ that isn’t _her_ type.

“Why would you think you aren’t?”

“Because this is your thing, right? Coming places like this with women dressed like this?”

“The company matters more than the food.”

“And I’m good company?” Her little flattered smile is adorable, but also heartbreaking — that she could even think for a second that he wouldn’t think so.

“The best.”

She runs her toes down the length of him again, and he groans, has to pull backwards because it’s becoming too much.

“Upstairs?” She grins at him knowingly, and he nods, pushes back from the table too eagerly.

He grasps her hand as they move to the elevators, tries to keep a bare minimum level of socially acceptable space between them despite the fact that he’d like to plaster himself to her back. He’d like to plaster himself to her back, press his hips against her, and kiss his way down her neck, which is why he’s not paying much attention to the flashbulbs going off in the lobby, announcing the arrival of someone worthy of being followed by paparazzi.

When the elevator finally arrives, it’s blessedly empty, and as they step on, he presses Skye’s chest into the back wall and attaches his lips to her neck. She laughs and pushes her hips backwards, grinds her ass against him.

“You have to hit the floor, Phil,” she whispers, and he groans at the very _thought_ of pulling away from her. He manages, though, reaches backwards and tags the top button on the panel behind them.

As the elevator starts to move, he shamelessly reaches under her dress, sliding his hand forward and up between her thighs. Her wetness, her eagerness, is _so obvious_ even through her panties, and he pushes his fingers underneath with no preamble. Two fingers slide easily inside of her, thrust upwards so that she grunts, and he wonders if he could get her off before they get to their floor.

Skye gasps and tips her head back, exposes more of her neck to him, and snakes one hand up behind his head to guide his lips down.

“Like that,” she pants as his teeth scrape across her skin, as his fingers push up and forward so that she exhales a high-pitched breath at each thrust.

The sound of the elevator stopping at their floor is immediately disappointing, and he slides his hand out from under her skirt as he steps back from her. Skye turns and meets his gaze in time to see him slide his fingers into his mouth. Her eyes grow impossibly darker as she watches him, and he thinks she would jump him right then except that the doors slide open, revealing an empty hallway.

Immediately, she tugs his hand as she dashes down the hallway, pulling him behind her so that he nearly trips over the rug. He laughs — a startled, pleased burst of emotion — as they stumble together and recover themselves, and then Skye pushes his chest up against the door of their room.

He can feel her stretch up behind him in order to lay her lips against the back of his neck, and she rains kisses and bites down to his collar as he fumbles at his back pocket. Once he’s got his wallet in hand, she pushes her body up against his and slides her hands down to cup him over his pants.

“Christ, Skye,” he groans and nearly drops his wallet when her fingers close around him. She's practically jacking him off through his pants.

In the hallway.

He manages to hold on, though, until he fishes out the room key and finally gets the door open.

They stumble inside, and he lets his wallet drop to the ground. Skye tugs him up against the closest bare wall and kisses him as her fingers fumble with his belt buckle. He responds in kind, pushes her dress up her hips and pulls her panties down far enough that she can wiggle out of them.

Her tongue presses into the roof of his mouth as his pants and boxers drop, and then he’s just _there_ , pressed up against her, her legs winding around his waist.

“ _Please_ ,” she begs him as she pulls up his shirt enough to slip her hands onto his naked back, to pull him forward so that his cock begins to press inside of her.

“Do you know how long I’ve wanted this?” He near-growls the words against her mouth, and Skye nods as she kisses him again, one hand pressed into his back and the other holding his neck.

His thrust is cut off, though, by the sound of the door slamming open behind them.

“I told you I could get it.”

“I never questioned whether you _could_ get it, I said you _shouldn’t._ ”

“And I disagreed —” There’s a coughing sputter. “That’s his butt!”

“Tony…”

“His _butt_. _Agent_ Coulson’s butt.”

There’s a feminine gasp, and he can only guess whether it’s more at seeing him — alive — or at the situation.

Coulson lets Skye slide back down the wall, feels his shirt fall down so it brushes his thighs. He pulls down Skye’s dress before he reaches down and pulls his pants up. It's amazing how quickly Tony Stark's voice can kill the mood.

“It’s him Pep. I told you it was him.”

Coulson turns around only to see Pepper Potts’s frown, somewhere between horrified and betrayed, and he forces a sheepish smile at her. He could care less about placating Tony Stark on a personal level; the man takes pride in being an ass and will handle this situation however he wants to regardless of what Coulson says or does.

Ms. Potts, though, was a friend. Or, at least, he thought of her as a friend. She was always more welcoming of him that she needed to be, always happy to talk about his life. He always liked her, very much, and he feels terrible that she’s had to find out like this.

“Mr. Stark. Ms. Potts,” he greets them both, but Pepper turns and walks towards the door, though she makes no move to actually leave. Coulson stands near the wall, finishes buckling his belt, under Stark’s amused gaze.

"You've got something..." Stark points down to where Skye's panties are still clinging to her left ankle.

Coulson almost blushes, but Skye looks completely unfazed. She just kicks off the garment and shoots Stark a smirk, almost contemptuous, almost challenging him to try harder next time. Then she strides across the room to where Ms. Potts stands and introduces herself quietly.

Stark turns to Coulson with a grin as they watch the two women meet.

"I like her.” He nods, looks like he might give Coulson a playful punch on the shoulder. “Who is she?"

"Skye. She's my second in command."

"I had pictured her a little older," Stark comments, and Coulson is decidedly uncomfortable with the comment.

Then his words catch up.

"Dr. Banner told you."

"Yes, he did. I was the last to know, apparently. I'm hurt, Agent Coulson, really."

Coulson rolls his eyes.

"It's Director Coulson, now."

Stark smiles at that, a real one.

"I'm glad you're okay." The words are so honest, real, that Coulson almost doesn't know what to do with them. "Pepper will be, too."

"Thanks." It sounds wrong, but he doesn't know what else to say. "And that's why you broke into my hotel room?"

"Oh, that. No. Banner and I found something you're going to want to see. We're thinking we might need to do an Avengers Assemble, and we figured you'd be the man to go through."

Stark almost vibrates with excitement, and Coulson looks across the room at Skye, who catches his eye. He nods, and she crosses the room to sit next to him on one of the loveseats in the living space, leaving the seat across the coffee table open for Stark and Ms. Potts. Coulson reaches for Skye's hand, rubs his knuckles softly over the back of it, as they wait expectantly for Stark to begin.

He can feel Ms. Potts follow the gesture, and glances up to see her give him a thoughtful smile, which he returns. 

"It's big," Stark begins.  


End file.
